“Wha? Issa good.”’
“Oh god, don’t,” I groan. “Just—don’t.”
“Aww. You do-na like it?” He rubs his wooly lip on my neck.
“Stop!” With a giggly shriek, I shove him and run for the door, but he snatches me and, once he has me trapped, wages a full-scale assault on my bare shoulders. His mustache is surprisingly soft for something made of plastic, and I can’t decide if it’s itchy or if it turns me on.
“Bella! Let me kiss you.”
“No. Stop! It tickles!”
“You like?”
Yes. “No!”
I break free only for him to chase me all the way down the stairs, laughing and calling after me, “Bella! Bella Betsy!”
I seek refuge in the crowded kitchen, Zander strolling in behind me. He fist-bumps Trevor, aka Luigi, before he ducks into the laundry room where he’s stashed my cooler. A second later he emerges with an ice cold Sam Adams, pops the lid, and hands it to me.
“I should get one for Liv, too.” I turn for the door, but Zander stops me with a hand on my arm.
“I think she’s already taken care of.”
I follow his gaze to the island where Cole and Braden are working their drink-mixing magic. And there I find Liv, standing beside Braden, supervising as he measures out ingredients.
Nothing going on, huh?
She hip-bumps him when he tries to add another splash of vodka to her cup, then giggles at his wolfish grin. He’s dressed as Thor. At least I think that’s who he’s supposed to be. He’s got the red cape, in the form of a tablecloth, but his armor is more Roman than Viking.
Of course, no one’s going to notice with his arm muscles all bare and bulging.
I whisper to Zander, “What’s Braden trying to do with Liv?”
“Get in her panties.”
“He gets in everyone’s panties.”
Zander laughs, dude-bro style. “Yeah, but only one girl at a time.”
Somehow, I doubt that. If any of the brothers would do a ménage à trois, it would be Braden.
“He’s a serial monogamist,” Zander declares, like he’s proud of his buddy for having so much self-control. And proud of himself for learning a new term in Anthropology 101.
I’m unimpressed. “A new girl every week doesn’t make him a serial monogamist.” According to Zander’s loose definition, someone who sleeps with a different person every half hour would qualify.
Zander shrugs as he examines the liquor bottles on the counter. He’s moved on to more important things.
Braden spots me and grins. “Hey Tinkerbell, come over here and let me get a look at you.”
I round the island and approach him and Liv, doing a little twirl to show off my wings.
“Smokin’ hot.”
Zander grabs a handful of my dress and tugs me away. Over his shoulder, he glares at his best friend. “My faerie, not yours.”
Like I said, Braden flirts with every girl he finds pleasing to the eye. But Zander only cares if he flirts with me.
In the short time it takes for Zander to mix himself a drink, the room fills up with people. Not everyone is in a costume, but the majority are. Nine out of ten girls are outfitted in something sexy: sexy nurse, sexy cat, sexy cheerleader, French maid, Playboy bunny. The guys are more willing to sacrifice looks for fun. They’re just overgrown little boys who love fake blood and superheroes. And weapons. I’ve already counted seven lightsabers.
